


It's Never Gettin' Any Better Than This

by dadtrickstump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, Bandom - Freeform, FOB, Gay, High School AU, Joe Trohman - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Peterick, background trohley, fall out boy - Freeform, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 13:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14812133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadtrickstump/pseuds/dadtrickstump
Summary: The first time Pete saw the boy was at a parade.





	It's Never Gettin' Any Better Than This

**Author's Note:**

> This is sorta weird and I wrote it in study hall a few weeks ago. 
> 
> I was thinking of possibly doing a spin-off that focuses on Andy and Joe, it'd probably be around the same length as this, maybe a little longer. Let me know in the comments if that's something you'd be interested in.  
> Also, if you like this fic, might I recommend another Peterick fic I wrote: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14443881 called: In Patrick's Eyes. 
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy.

The first time Pete saw the boy was at a parade. The annual fourth of July parade, if you want to be specific. It had to have been later than three o’clock, but sunlight still streamed optimistically down from the sun's high position in the blue-gray sky, which led him to believe it could not have been any past seven or eight, either. Also, there was the fact that the fireworks hadn’t happened yet. He recalled the bustling of the large crowd of overprotective parents clinging to their children's’ small arms like at any moment they could be ripped away from them, drunk men and women who had no possibility of remembering a single detail about the day, groups of teenagers escaping parental pressures to drink and smoke with their friends, and bored young adults who were simply looking for a way to waste time. Pete had been in the latter category.   
The smell of carnival food wafted from the city streets, and traffic had been blocked for the duration of the day and most of the night. Pete went to events such as the parade yearly-- what else was there to do in a town full of snobby, petty imbeciles who still desperately clung to the delusion that they were going amazing places in life? At least Pete knew he wasn’t going anywhere.   
That’s what really stuck out about the boy, the first thing Pete noticed about him. His attitude towards life, himself, and the people around him made him substantially different than the rest of those in Glenview. He had an admirable respect for even the scummiest of scum, an optimistic, but not unrealistic, aspect on life, and viewed himself in about the same light as Pete did about himself.   
Anyway, he was different. Pete could tell as soon as he laid eyes on him. He stood with a boy who worked with Pete at a local music store-- Joe, his name was-- on the street corner across from where Pete stood, frighteningly still, watching them with a sort of stalker-ish curiosity. The sky had been doing that lovely thing it does where it blends all the gorgeous colors it held into a mix that closely resembled a painting he swore he’d seen somewhere. The boy stood in black shorts and calf-high, black socks. Pete had noticed his energy and the way he held himself first, but his outfit was the first factor that had made Pete decide he wanted to talk to him.   
When Joe noticed him staring, he’d turned and bumped the boy with his shoulder, then moved his gaze back towards Pete and waved over-exaggeratedly. Pete didn’t really remember, but he was pretty sure his facial expression didn’t change at all. Joe then proceeded to roll his eyes, grab his friends wrist, and run-- it was more like a skip, really-- over to him. He’d watched them approach with his hands still shoved in the pockets of his jacket.   
“Pete!” Joe had exclaimed once they’d crossed the street. “I didn’t know you came to things like this, man.” Pete wasn’t quite sure how he’d responded to that, but he presumed it was with something along the lines of “Nothing better to do.”   
Joe’s friend, the boy, had been giving him a look that Pete, who was an expert at analysing emotions, could not decipher, until Joe looked at him and got excited again. “Oh! Yeah, this is Patrick. Patrick, this is Pete, I work with him.” It was Pete’s turn to creepily stare. Partially awkward ‘hellos’ were exchanged, and then Joe and Patrick were off to go talk to someone else.   
Pete didn’t remember what he did after that. Drank a little and messed around, probably. 

 

The next time he saw the boy was later, during the town’s flamboyant display of fireworks. Everyone took massive pride in the towns firework show-- what else was there to take pride in? Single parents raising occasionally decent but mostly awful children? Pete had chosen to sit alone on top of a hill a few blocks away from where the mass of people were. His chin rested on his knees and his arms were wrapped around his legs, and he stared up at the sky with a neutral expression as the array of fireworks exploded above him.   
“Pretty.” Patrick commented, coming up next to him and sitting down indian-style. Pete nodded wordlessly and kept his eyes trained on the colors. “I like when the colors mix together, at the end, and then once they disappear when you can see the smoke from them falling.” Pete looked over at him, a small smile on his face.   
“Yeah? I like the reminiscents of the sound you can hear after they go off.” He remembered telling him. Patrick’s face had scrunched up and he laughed.   
“Really? That shit’s deafening.”   
“That’s why I like it, cause no one else does.” Pete said.   
“Edgy.” Patrick joked.  
“Very.” Pete agreed. Patrick grinned and turned back towards the night sky.   
It was late when they’d decided to leave, the firework show had long ended, yet they’d stayed to watch the stars.   
Anyways, on the way back to their houses, which they discovered were only a block or two away from each other, they chatted idly about whatever topic came to mind, and found that even though they were different and had opposing opinions on almost everything, they fit together very well. They’d exchanged phone numbers, and gone their separate ways. 

 

Nothing of relevance happened for a few weeks following the parade, Patrick and Pete had hung out a few times alone and a couple with Joe and his new “friend” Andy. Pete never really got any more details about them, but he was pretty sure they were still dating, possibly even married. He wasn’t positive, he hadn’t talked to either of them in years.   
But maybe about four weeks after they met, Patrick came running into the music store Pete worked at, his face red and flushed, panting heavily.   
“Pete!” He’d squeaked, out of breath. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” Pete followed him, no questions asked, because that was just how their friendship had been. They trusted one another enough to be sure they wouldn’t do something too stupid.   
Patrick had taken him to a concert, which ended up being really cool, because at the end they’d given everybody free coffee and poptarts. Then they’d walked home together, just like always, except this time, as Pete was turning onto the road where they split, Patrick stopped him.   
“Wanna come over?” He’d asked. Pete could hear the nervous edge in his voice, but hadn’t really known why it was there. So, he’d nodded and followed Patrick down the road to his house.   
It wasn’t anything special, neither was Pete’s, but it was pretty cozy on the inside. They’d stayed up into the late hours of the night-- alright, maybe it was closer to morning-- playing video games and watching movies. Patrick had drawn Pete a really shitty stick figure version of themselves on a crumpled piece of notebook paper, but Pete remembered thinking it was the coolest thing in the world.  
“Can I keep it?” He’d asked. He recalled that Patrick thought he was joking, but agreed anyway.   
When Patrick had fallen asleep, it’d been on Pete’s shoulder, which caused this feeling of glee that Pete didn’t quite get at the time. Of course he did now, but he didn’t understand what real, overwhelming love felt like at that point (he was just a kid, after all. Or something close to that). Admittedly, this was one of Pete’s favorite memories.   
They’d made that a weekly tradition, hanging out and then going to Patrick’s house for the night, and every time would end similar to the first.   
It wasn’t until the first time they’d stayed at Pete’s house that it really clicked for him. That Friday had started normally, but instead of going to Patrick’s house, they decided on Pete’s since his parents weren’t home. Pete showed him inside and to his room, where framed above his desk, hung the picture that Patrick had drawn him all those months ago. Pete remembered, once Patrick had noticed, trying to measure his reaction. He was staring at the picture with red cheeks and an endearing smile.   
“You still have this?” He’d inquired in disbelief.  
“Yes.” Pete answered. He still did. Patrick turned back to it for a moment, then spun around to Pete with a determined look on his face.   
“Okay. So I’m going to kiss you now.” Pete had barely had time to register what exactly Patrick had said, before he was kissing his best friend. Which, he can’t say he hadn’t thought about before. It had definitely been the coolest moment of his life, and still had not been topped.   
They never did have an official relationship, though after that night they did typical things people who were in relationships did. But anyways, that’s how they spent the next six months-- together. All the time. And neither one of them, as far as Pete knew anyway, had ever gotten sick of it. But then the end of the year rol around, and since it was senior year for both of the boys, college was right around the corner. Pete had still been convinced at that point (and for many years to come) that he was to amount to nothing, but he’d known for sure that Patrick was going to go away and do amazing things. That kid could sing like a motherfucker, and had to have known every single instrument known to mankind.   
Pete, after many months of deliberation, decided that college was not for him, and he was going to try and do something or other related to music or writing. Patrick figured out that he wanted to do psychotherapy/therapy, and Pete was confident in his ability to do so. And so, they helped each other figure things out, and many nights were spent with Pete helping Patrick apply to colleges, and in return Patrick helped Pete secure a job at a music production studio in Los Angeles.   
Patrick ended up being accepted into two colleges, one in New York, where he wanted so very badly to go, and one on the outskirts of Portland. He’d hastily agreed to go to the one in Portland, but Pete had told him to wait before deciding, and they’d avoided the topic until it was really time for Patrick to schedule his classes. That night, Pete remembered their conversation went something like this:  
They’d been sitting idly around Patrick’s bedroom and laughing over random, stupid shit-- as teenagers do. It was Pete who’d brought it up.   
“Patrick.” He started seriously, an awful, nauseating feeling working its way through him for the words he was about to say. “You gotta go to New York, man.”   
“What? But you’re going to Los Angeles..” Patrick trailed off, clearly not getting it.   
“Yeah, I am. And you gotta go to New York.” He repeated.   
“How, Pete?”   
“You forget you ever met me.”   
“I can’t just forget that you exist, Pete.” Patrick’s tone was hushed, and his eyes were big, wide, and full of something Pete had been feeling too.   
“You have to. You have so much potential, and it’ll just be wasted if you don’t go to a school that can really do what you need.” Pete had been specifically avoiding meeting Patrick’s eyes while he spoke, but when he looked back up they were glossy and full of tears. Pete pulled him over to where he sat. They sat in such a manner, two nearly grown men hugging each other and crying like small children (In hindsight, Pete realized, they did act quite similar to small children at that time, so the comparison wouldn’t be far off), for a few minutes more, before Patrick leaned his head against Pete’s shoulder and let out a shaky sigh.  
“I gotta go to New York,” He finally whispered. Pete sloppily kissed the top of his head.   
“I know.” He whispered back. It was as Patrick fell asleep that night that Pete really felt it--  
That was the beginning of the end of Patrick and Pete.   
The end of summer had arrived way too fast for Pete’s liking, and soon it was time for Pete to say goodbye. Bone-crushing hugs were exchanged, along with a lot of tears, and promises to text and call every day and every night. They swore not to lose touch. Pete remembered that day felt like an out of body experience to him. He held the sides of Patrick’s face in his hands, gave him the biggest, teary-eyed smile he could conjure up, and pressed a kiss to his nose. They hugged once more, and then Patrick was climbing into the car and waving his goodbye. Pete knows he’ll never forget the way Patrick looked at that moment-- tears streaming down his face, which was turned red from crying, his hair all messed up. Then the car turned, and he could no longer see him.   
“I love you,” Pete had said to nothing, to no one. “More than when the colors from fireworks mix together, at the end, and then once they disappear and you can see the smoke from them falling.” He whispered at the end, standing on the curb, where he’d first laid eyes on him, long after the car had gone.   
They’d lost communication sometime over the next year.   
That was the last time he ever saw the boy. 

*  
Pete stares at his therapist after telling the story, and nervously fidgets with the sleeves of his jacket.   
“And that’s all.” He finishes airily. His therapist moves a piece of his bleach-blonde hair out of his eyes and cocks an eyebrow. Pete isn’t sure about his new therapist, he’s been going to him for the last few weeks, but there’s something weird about him.   
“Y’know,” His therapist starts. “You remember the fireworks thing a little different than I do.” He says. Pete looks up, eyes widening and mouth falling agape.   
“You- I- What-”   
“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but then you mentioned me a few times so I was curious as to how much you’d remember.” Patrick tells him, watching him carefully. Pete jolts out of his chair and rips Patrick from his, then there’s hugging and delighted yelling and more hugging.   
“Holy shit, I didn’t even recognize you!” Pete exclaims giddily. Patrick pulls back from the current hug and playfully tugs on Pete’s hair.   
“I missed you, you imbecile.” He tells him. Pete beams.   
“I missed you, too.”   
“I love you.” Patrick declares nervously. Again, Pete beams.   
“I love you, too.” Now it’s Patrick’s turn to grin.   
“More than I love the reminiscents of the sound you can hear after the fireworks go off.” He quotes, smile permanently plastered on his face.   
“Really?” Pete scrunches his face up. “That shit’s deafening.”   
“That’s why I like it, cause no one else does.”   
“Edgy,” Pete comments with a wolfish grin.   
“Very.” Patrick agrees breathily.   
Then, they kiss.   
That was the first time he saw the boy again, and the last time he worried about ever losing him.


End file.
